Penelope & Prince Charming Read Online Free

you think is happening up there? Right now?”
    They shared a look.
    As one, they turned back to the waiting man.
    “Very well,” Penelope answered, voice shaking. “I will ride with you.”
    “Excellent,” he said again. When he said the word in that voice, she wanted to believe it.
    She handed Meagan her basket, closed her fingers around his outstretched hand, and lifted her foot to rest on his boot. He pulled her upward, his strength taking all the strain. He settled her easily before him, and as in her fantasy, closed his arms around her.
    “We shall see you there,” the man called down to Meagan.
    Meagan settled Penelope’s basket, smiled, and waved good-bye, as the man turned the horse and started up the road for Ashborn Manor.
    Treacherous girl.

Chapter Three
    “How far is it?” he asked in Penelope’s ear.
    His breath was warm. He smelled of the outdoors and the tang of ale and a sharp, male scent. Strong arms encircled her, holding her steady at the same time he made her heart beat extra fast. She was also very aware that her buttocks and hips pressed firmly into the spread of his thighs.
    “Half a mile by road,” she stammered.
    “Closer over the fields?”
    “Um, yes.”
    “Excellent.”
    He liked the word. He spurred his horse into a canter and plunged off the road. The horse soared under them, then landed hard, but the man caught her before she could slide away.
    “Do not worry,” he said. “I will never let you go.”
    Her heart thrilled, though she knew he must not mean the words the way she wanted him to. His command ofEnglish was not faultless; doubtless he only meant that he would hold her safely.
    “I do not even know who you are,” she said over the wind and thumping hoofbeats.
    “Call me Damien,” he said. “It is easier.”
    Easier than what? she wanted to ask, but she had to save her breath for the ride. She held double handfuls of the horse’s silken mane, and Damien hung on to her.
    She’d never been this close to a man before. Even dancing the waltz with Reuben had not brought her into this much contact with another man’s body. Damien’s broad chest was hard against her back, and he held the reins low, almost in her lap, gloved hands steady. The gloves were finely made, as she’d suspected, probably in Bond Street in London. They stretched over his fingers like a second skin, outlining the sinewy strength of them.
    His skin was darker than an Englishman’s, but tiny white patches creased the corners of his eyes, and fine lines brushed his skin there. He had a strong jaw and a square chin dusted with bristles, as though he’d not been able to shave that morning. His smile was warm, but he looked as though he could be fierce, and had been, when necessary.
    He caught her scrutiny and his smile widened. “What is your name?”
    For one awful moment, she could not remember.
    “Penelope,” she blurted.
    “Penelope.” He repeated it as though he liked the taste in his mouth. He lingered over each warm syllable. “ Penelope. Like Odysseus’s wife.”
    “Yes. Only I cannot weave.”
    He laughed. His eyes crinkled when he did, and her blood warmed to furnace temperatures.
    “I should not have told you that,” she said.
    “That you cannot weave? Why should this trouble me?”
    “I mean my name. We have not been introduced. You should not even know my Christian name, let alone speak it.”
    He chuckled, his chest rumbling. “But I am carrying you off. Why can I not speak your name?”
    “Are you carrying me off?” she asked.
    “Would you like me to? Where would you like to go, Penelope?”
    “I thought you wanted to go to Ashborn Manor.”
    “I do. But my business there is dull. Perhaps I would like one more afternoon of happiness before I must attend to this business.” He slowed the horse to a walk. They were far from the road, in a meadow of tall grass shielded by trees. “Would you like to make me happy, Penelope?”
    Her heart thumped. “Are you flirting